


all roads lead to "home"

by tealady19



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Sheithlentines 2021, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:33:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealady19/pseuds/tealady19
Summary: The more it happens, the more he realises: the bayard has given him Black’s teleportation abilities.  It’s like travelling with the wolf, but Shiro controls where he goes.It’s exhilarating.Finally getting to use the black Bayard, Shiro finds it gives him the ability to teleport.  It's the most fun he's had in a long time.And then it starts bringing him to Keith.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 132
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	all roads lead to "home"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morthael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/gifts).



> Happy Sheithlentines to [ree](https://twitter.com/anuveon)! Thank you for waiting ❤️ Your wishlist was so good I could hardly choose, but this prompt just called out to me. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you mods for another great event!

It happens on an off-chance encounter: all six paladins travel to Nyria Prime on a diplomatic mission. Keith takes him down to the planet’s surface in Black, and the Lions leave the Atlas in a high orbit.

They don’t expect to find any hostile activity. Unfortunately, hostile activity tends to find them on a regular basis.

“Why can’t we have a routine mission _one time_?” Shiro hears Hunk curse across the square, his bayard’s heavy firing punctuating his words and his frustration. No one really has an answer for him.

The local people seem to have very strong opinions on whether their government should join the coalition or not. This particular faction seems squarely in the _not_ category. They were ambushed just before reaching the senate buildings, explosions ringing the square and forcing the paladins to take cover.

The others have their bayards at the ready, but Shiro had left his blaster behind on the Atlas. In retrospect, it was a vastly stupid idea. A few months ago, Sam and Pidge had built him a new prosthesis to replace his wartime arm, and Shiro had requested it to be built without weapons. It’s solid, but the only thing he has to defend himself with right now are his fists.

Keith, always in tune, glances over his shoulder just as Shiro gets pinned behind an outcropping of rock. He can barely hear Keith’s cry of his name over the echoing blaster fire. In less than a second Keith’s Marmoran blade is lengthening into its sword form and a black shape is hurtling towards Shiro’s face.

He catches it with his prosthetic hand and stares down at it in shock: Keith has tossed him the black bayard.

Shiro has only used it once before, in Black. That last battle with Zarkon, right before he.. Right before he died. Even in the clone’s memories, he defaulted to using his Galran hand instead of the bayard. Shiro doesn’t know what to do with this now. Will it even work for him?

He looks back up at Keith but he’s already turned back to the fight, taking down another enemy. He’s beautiful to watch, long lines and deadly, elegant grace. Shiro could watch him fight all day.

Except, he can’t afford to be distracted right now, and he trusts his instincts when an alarm bell goes off in his head. He ducks quickly back behind the rock as a blaster bolt skims past his ear.

The bayard is heavy when he looks back down at it. It’s a comfortable fit in his hand but it hasn’t taken a shape. He looks harder at it, willing something to happen, he’s running out of time-

When he reaches out almost unconsciously, Black reaches back.

She purrs in his mind as their connection clicks back into place and the bayard starts to glow. It stretches out and up but instead of taking the shape of a sword, maybe a staff or even a blaster like the one he’s been using, it wraps itself around his fist like tar. Each finger is coated when he flexes his hand and when he clenches his fist it starts to glow like his Galra hand once did.

If this is what the bayard offers him, Shiro will take it to help his friends. He just hopes he can get it to revert back so he can return the bayard to Keith.

He’s about to duck back out and find a way into the fray when he sees one of the dissidents aiming a strike to Keith’s back. He’s preoccupied with two assailants at his front and Shiro can see how he won’t be able to fend off all of them in time. It’s Shiro’s worst nightmare come to life: any of the paladins going down is horrific, but Keith.

Not Keith. Shiro can’t lose Keith.

All his focus is on helping Keith, saving Keith, getting to Keith so he doesn’t quite realise what is happening until it does. One moment he’s watching Keith’s back, the next he’s right in front of the enemy about to hurt him.

He stares into the alien’s equally shocked eyes, frozen for just a moment. But then he gets his bearings, realises who this is and strikes his opponent down before they can react. He’s almost finished dispatching one when he sees another overpowering Pidge and then he’s there in a thought.

The more it happens, the more he realises: the bayard has given him Black’s teleportation abilities. It’s like travelling with the wolf, but Shiro controls where he goes.

It’s exhilarating.

He moves like wind through the square, appearing and disappearing and wrangling their attackers while the others hoot and holler. The fight wraps up quickly after and Shiro is left standing in the middle of the square, wiping sweat from his forehead and unable to keep the smile from his face.

A moment later, Keith runs up to him.

“What the hell just happened?” he asks, but the excitement in his voice and the smile on his own face gives him away. “You were everywhere!”

Shiro laughs. “It’s the black bayard,” he says, holding up his hand where the black gel still coats it like a glove. “I think it gave me Black’s ability to teleport.”

Keith is smiling so wide as he runs his fingers over the back of Shiro’s hand.

“This is so cool, Shiro. I knew the bayard would work for you.”

Shiro is about to figure out how to give the bayard back to its rightful owner but the others run up to them before he gets the chance. He’s overwhelmed with questions and congratulations and he watches Keith step slightly to the side, a look on his face Shiro can only think of as _proud._

The negotiations have to come first, so Shiro goes along with the others as they’re pulled back into the senate buildings. He’ll give the bayard back to Keith once they’re home.

***

“No,” Keith says when Shiro catches him in the hallway close to their quarters on the Atlas later that night. “You keep it.”

“Keith,” he says, trying to put the re-formed bayard into his hands. Keith crosses his arms over his chest.

_“Shiro,_ ” he counters. “I have my blade. You use the bayard for now. I don’t need it.”

“This is the _Black Paladin’s_ weapon,” he stresses, trying again to give it back to the most stubborn man he’s ever met. Keith turns his body away.

“Good think I’m looking at him then,” he retorts. Shiro huffs.

“And what happens when you need it mid-fight, in Voltron?”

“Then I’ll call it to me. I’ve done it before, Shiro - and Voltron isn’t needed as much right now. It’s fine.”

Shiro sighs, knowing he’s not going to change Keith’s mind on this. And he’s right, he can call it to him if he needs it, they have comms open at all times when the team is in Voltron so Shiro will know if he needs it. He drops his arm to his side, fingers curling over the grip. Shiro can’t say he isn’t surprised but he realises he’s also a little pleased. He gets a bayard. He’s still a paladin. He notices how he’s smiling about it when Keith speaks again.

“Besides,” Keith says, uncurling now that he’s got his victory. “You looked so happy using it out there. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“It’s fun,” he admits. Keith grins.

“It looks like how I travel with the wolf,” he says as they start walking down the corridor side by side. “Like you can just poof wherever you want.”

Shiro hums, thinking about how much he wants to curl his arm around Keith’s shoulders. He doesn’t move his arm. “It’s like wolf-travel, yeah. But goes where I want it to, since I don’t have the same connection with Kosmo that you do.”

Keith hums. “Is it just teleportation, or is there something else that it does?”

Shiro activates the bayard to show him. It coats his fingers again, oil-slick black that glows with Black’s cool purple light. “It’s like how my Galra hand used to be, but I can take it off whenever I want.”

Keith touches it carefully. His fingertips are soft against his dimly glowing hand. “That’s so good, Shiro,” he says, looking up with such an earnest expression Shiro’s heart melts a little. Keith is so good to him.

“I really like it, though it surprised me. Thank you, Keith.”

He brushes it off, cheeks flushing at the praise. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome.” They reach their doors, Keith on the right and Shiro across the hall and a few paces down yet. Shiro debates for a moment and then tugs Keith into a quick hug, just tight enough to feel the muscles in his back when he squeezes Shiro too.

He’s still smiling when Shiro lets him go, the soft one he only gets to see when Keith is really pleased. He palms open the door to his quarters. “Sleep well, Shiro,” he says. Shiro smiles helplessly back at him.

“Goodnight, Keith.”

***

Shiro doesn’t really wear his paladin armour anymore, though he does still have it tucked away in his rooms. He’d tried giving it to Keith once after they’d arrived back on Earth, saying that he needed to wear it since he was the black paladin now. He hadn’t been surprised that Keith had vehemently refused.

_That’s your armour, Shiro,_ he’d said. _I won’t take it from you._

But Shiro wears his uniform if he’s not in a flight suit, and while the other paladins don’t really carry their bayards around with them at all times, Shiro likes the reminder that he still belongs with them. That Black still accepts him. That he’s still wanted.

It doesn’t solve the problem of where to store it, so Shiro’s taken to activating it and having the gel coat his right hand. It won’t activate unless Shiro wants it to, unless someone is in danger, but he does have one thing accessible: he can still teleport.

The first time he teleported onto the bridge Iverson had nearly fallen out of his seat in shock. It was exactly the reaction he hadn’t realised he’d wanted.

Since then he’s taken to teleporting himself almost everywhere. He has to make up time in the gym for all the lost walking across decks and up and down floors, but the Atlas is so huge the time-saver is worth it. Also it allows him more time in the morning for tea and a slow waking up, and Shiro is learning to savour those luxuries.

The morning meetings are his favourites to teleport into, especially if everyone is already there. Keith caught on after the first time he tried it and now Shiro dutifully waits in his room, cup of tea in his flesh hand and datapad in the right, until Keith sends him a quick text that everyone has arrived but are dawdling around coffee and Hunk’s muffins.

Shiro then appears at the head of the meeting table, voice booming greetings and startling all of the present staff into their seats. Keith tries to hide his glee at the exclamations and frazzled looks on some of the more rigid officers, especially those who still have some trouble accepting him as the leader he is. Shiro thinks they deserve more than just to be startled into submission several times a week but Keith doesn’t seem to care.

No one gets used to it.

Shiro is quiet by nature, quieter by experience. He knows what it’s like to be caught unawares and he does his best not to teleport into a situation that could be dangerous for him or anyone else in the room.

He zaps himself into the locker room or outside the doors of the training deck but never into the gym itself. He avoids the kitchen at all costs, certain he’ll startle someone into chopping their own fingers off or burning themselves on the stove and Shiro might be a problem case in the kitchen but he isn’t going to cause issues for other people.

Well, Keith says his cooking is pretty good as long as he pays attention to it, so maybe it’s not that bad. Unfortunately, Keith himself is the biggest distraction Shiro’s ever encountered.

The firing range is completely off limits, as is the engine room, but one place that Shiro has discovered is an excellent place to surprise people is Pidge’s lab.

Objectively, it’s a terrible idea because Pidge is a master of retribution but the look on her face is priceless every time and whatever she’ll do to him makes the whole thing worth it.

He gets the idea to pop in on her after talking with Sam, unknowingly sealing his daughter’s fate when he suggests Shiro have her check up on how his upgraded prosthetic is doing. Shiro had her check it up just last night but that news hadn’t yet passed to Sam who works a regular person’s hours rather than the gremlin shift Pidge usually does.

Shiro’s a hypocrite though, he works all the time.

“Thanks, Sam,” he says, and means it. He’s looked up to this man for a long time. “I’ll do that.”

The older man waves a hand as he continues off back to engineering or maybe the botanical bay. Shiro smiles after him, and then focuses on his fist.

He feels a swell of Black’s energy, a sense of her amusement, and then he blinks into Pidge’s laboratory right as she’s reaching for a tray of computer parts.

Her shriek can be heard at least across the entire deck and the parts go flying from the tray as she startles. Shiro hopes they aren’t damaged, but he’ll replace them if he needs to. In the meantime he’s busy laughing and raising his prosthetic arm to block Pidge’s blows as she starts whacking him with the tray still in her hands.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a lot of fun.

***

Things take an unexpected turn after a week or two of startling people. Maybe it shouldn’t be quite so unexpected because Black has always been kind of a meddler in her paladins’ lives, but Shiro doesn’t immediately realise what’s going on.

At first, it’s innocuous: he’ll teleport into a room and be standing closest to Keith. Since Shiro’s favourite place to stand is next to Keith, it’s not unusual. But then he’d think about going to one side of the mess hall or the paladins’ common room and end up on the other side, closer to Keith.

Again, not really an issue since he would have sat next to him anyways, but then he’s aiming for the halfway outside the training rooms and when he zaps into the space, Keith walks straight into his chest.

He bounces back with an _oof_ and blinks wide eyed up at Shiro as he loses his footing.

Shiro tries to catch Keith as Keith tries to catch Shiro and they both overbalance, ending up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Shiro picks his head up off of Keith’s shoulder where his forehead had driven into the bone on impact.

“Keith! Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” Everything comes out in a rush as he looks over Keith’s face for any injuries, tries to check the back of his head where it had hit the deck plating. Keith’s been prone to migraines since the crash and Shiro would be absolutely crushed to be the cause of one.

He groans, but blinks up at him and his eyes are clear. “No, ‘m okay, Shiro,” he gets out with only a little grumbling. “Where’d you come from?”

Shiro lifts his right hand to show where the bayard covers it, and then the shift in his weight reminds them both that Shiro is still mostly lying on top of Keith on the floor. Shiro feels his ears burn even as he watches Keith’s cheeks flush and he scrambles up.

Keith takes the hand he offers and Shiro hauls him back up.

“Guess I’m still figuring out how to get exactly where I need to go with this thing.” He pats Keith’s shoulder for good measure. “If you’re good, want to spar? It’s been a while.”

The offer gets an immediate sharp grin out of Keith, like he’s been waiting for Shiro to ask. That look usually means Shiro’s going to lose, but he loves it anyway.

“Heh, I’ll put you on your ass as retribution,” Keith says confidently as he heads into the training room. As usual, Shiro is helpless to follow him. Maybe a good spar will sort him out.

***

He should have expected nothing would change. Shiro manages to teleport exactly where he wants for two entire days until he’s in Pidge’s lab to help her and Matt with an experiment. The experiment bubbles and then explodes in Shiro’s direction and he ends up covered in some kind of residue. It’s oily and sticky and a vibrant pink. Matt emerges from that failed experiment with only a splash on his lab coat but Shiro’s whole left side is covered. He desperately needs a bath. It’s even in his hair.

He leaves for his quarters and his own showers with one last glare to two sniggering Holts - and hm, this must be payback for every time he’d scared Pidge after all - and teleports away.

Only, he doesn’t end up in his quarters. When he reappears there’s the sound of water hitting tiles and deep echoes and then Keith’s voice which Shiro only fantasizes about hearing in his shower-

It’s the locker room shower, not his personal bathroom, and Keith has just stepped out from one of the shower stalls. He looks a little surprised, but it might have more to do with the fact that Shiro is painted in pink goo down one side of him than it is about him randomly appearing in his shower.

Shiro is trying to get his brain back online but _wow Keith’s shoulders-_

“Are you okay?”

Shiro snaps his attention back up to Keith’s face. He’s concerned. Shiro’s concerned too, especially with exactly how defined Keith's pecs are when they’re less than an arm's length away. He wills himself not to look any further down.

“Holts,” he says, and just the one word has Keith nodding in understanding.

“Water’s still warm in mine,” he says, motioning to the shower stall with the most steam filtering from around the curtain. Keith is a connoisseur of scalding water. He pulls the curtain back unceremoniously and motions Shiro forward.

There’s a towel slung around his hips, held on by a very precarious tuck of one corner over his hip. Keith doesn’t even seem to notice his utter lack of dress.

He probably hasn’t realised, Shiro thinks as he unbuttons his uniform top carefully, trying to extract his arm without getting any pink goo on the inside of the sleeve. Keith is also very one-track minded when it comes to helping Shiro. He’s known about that for years.

“Do you want help?” he asks as Shiro gets the jacket off but starts to struggle with the tight tank top he wears as an undershirt. If he’d known this was going to involve Keith helping him strip, Shiro would have walked back to his room instead. His ears are so red they’re about to start steaming.

“Please,” he says instead because he is absolutely not going to refuse. Keith’s hands on him are gentle and reverent as he lifts the tank top over Shiro’s head. He thinks Keith gets up on his toes to reach the extra distance but his balance doesn’t falter.

“Did they say what any of this was?”

Shiro thinks, but neither Holt seemed too concerned about it. “Just sticky. As long as there’s enough soap it should be okay. The laundry can take care of my uniform.”

He washes his hands under the spray of the shower and the goo comes off with some scrubbing. Shiro might ruin a washcloth, but it’s an acceptable casualty.

He strips off his boots and leggings once his hands are clean, jolting when Keith makes a noise behind him. He’d almost forgotten he’s still here.

When he turns, Keith’s face is a little pink, but he’s looking steadily at Shiro. “I can help you with your hair,” he offers, hands open. “Or get you some new clothes, whatever you want.”

Keith’s hands in his hair sounds divine. Shiro’s debating whether or not to allow himself the luxury when Keith seems to finally realise his own state of undress. He makes another startled noise and his hand flies to the precarious tuck of his towel. Shiro thinks, _next time._

“I have some spare clothes in my locker, can you grab them when you get yours?”

Keith nods and slides the curtain closed behind Shiro as he leaves, his face flushed red. Shiro can hear the slap of his wet feet as he hurries around the corner to the locker banks. He lets himself sink into the fantasy of Keith’s hands in his hair as he rinses the pink goo clear.

***

The worst part of a shift at the bridge is that Atlas still hasn’t figured out a chair for him. Sometimes he has a stool, sometimes a kind of seat to lean against, one time he had a Star Trek-esque cubic captain’s chair - Atlas says she hasn’t decided on what suits them best so sometimes he has to stand.

Today is one of those days. Eight hours later his hips are aching and he reaches his arms above his head in the tenth stretch in the last thirty minutes. This time he gets a satisfying string of crunches audible enough to make Veronica cringe.

Shiro is ready for the end of his shift - the only exciting thing today has been passing by an asteroid cluster and it was the same one they’d passed by at the beginning of this week. He wants some food and a nap.

He gratefully hands off the bridge to beta shift when they arrive. As soon as the commander takes Shiro’s place in the captain’s station, Shiro activates his bayard and teleports himself back to his quarters. After almost a month with it, some of the novelty has worn off but today of all days, he deserves not to walk back home.

He runs into a snag, though, when less than ten seconds after he arrives in his living room, Keith and Kosmo zap in next to him. Keith stares at him for a moment, surprise on his face, and then turns to Kosmo with the surprise transforming into irritation.

“Kos-!” he starts as Shiro turns in time to catch a smug look on the wolf’s face as he teleports away. Keith throws his arms up in indignation. Shiro just laughs.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith says, turning back to him. “I was trying to go back to my room. He’s probably stolen the whole bed by now.” He looks apologetically up at Shiro.

Shiro, on the other hand, brightens at the idea of Keith in his space. After all, the only thing better than a quiet night by himself is one with Keith by his side. The idea has him slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders and tugging him in.

“Maybe the wolf has the right idea,” he says, resting his chin on the top of Keith’s head. He has to stretch his neck a little to reach it, when did he get so tall? “Want to stay for a movie? I’ve got re-heatable Hunk-dinners.”

Shiro feels Keith smile into his neck as he relaxes into the hold. His arms curl around Shiro’s waist.

“As long as I’m not imposing,” he hedges, but Shiro can hear the want in his voice.

“You, impose on me?” he says, giving Keith a squeeze. “Never.”

They break apart with matching smiles. Keith settles himself on Shiro’s couch with his favourite blankets while Shiro grabs two random meals from the small freezer to reheat. He’ll have to ask Hunk for a replenishment soon, or maybe Shiro will try out batch cooking himself on his next day off. He’s got some ideas. Maybe Keith will even help and they’ll do it together.

Right now, though, his favourite person has tossed his boots in the direction of the door, socked feet curled under himself and his favourite soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Keith folds his red uniform jacket over the arm of the couch.

Shiro sets two warm bowls onto the coffee table in front of them, stripping off his own jacket and boots and draping them next to Keith’s. His own blanket is waiting for him as he takes his seat on Keith’s left.

“Thanks,” Keith says as he pulls his bowl into his lap. “I think I needed this.”

Shiro grins back at him, bumping Keith's shoulder with his own. “Me too.”

When Keith inevitably falls asleep on Shiro’s shoulder late that night, he presses a lingering, chaste kiss into his soft black hair. He leaves Keith on the couch for the night, both blankets tucked around him. In the next room, Shiro happily falls asleep to his soft, kittenish snores.

***

The mess hall is loud and grating after Shiro’s morning meeting - which, of course, ran late and became an early-afternoon meeting as well. He knows it’s mac and cheese day and he doesn’t have any ready-made mac and cheese at home, so he’s braving the noise to get his well-deserved treat and then he’s going to teleport himself back to his quarters and spend the rest of his day doing paperwork in silence. Atlas has agreed to filter his calls to only people he actually likes, and today that list is small.

Shiro smiles graciously at the six people who try to get his attention between entering the commissary and actually picking up his late lunch. There are still a number of officers finishing up their own lunch and they’re well fed and eager to chat. Shiro is neither of these things, barely having time for his morning tea after he overslept, but the would-be conversation partners seem to take the hint. He makes it out of the mess hall in less than ten minutes.

He pictures his location very clearly in his mind, clenching his fist surrounded by his bayard. _His quarters. His kitchen. His red throw cushion on the couch. His favourite teacup drying on the counter._ Shiro feels the familiar tug of teleportation in his solar plexus and Black’s amused presence in his mind and when he opens his eyes he’s in the kitchen, and there’s a red blanket on the couch he can see in the living room, and a teacup on the counter that isn’t the one he drank out of this morning.

Shiro tries his best not to let out a frustrated noise as he tips his head back towards the ceiling, but he does send some acidic thoughts towards Black. He thinks he’s figured out the culprit to the recent misadventures in teleporting and Black’s amusement at his thoughts just seals her culpability.

Black’s been trying to set him and Keith up, in the most stereotypical way possible.

A noise in the living room has him turning around just in time to see Keith stumbling out of his bedroom, hair half-fallen out of his sleeping braid and blinking confusedly at Shiro standing in his quarters.

“Shiro?”

Keith blinks at him again and then looks accusingly around his quarters, like he’s the one who ended up in the wrong quarters. Keith’s been working a later shift this last week, time zones with the blades meaning his video meetings with Kolivan start somewhere around dinnertime and can go until well after midnight. He’s taken to getting up in the early afternoon to make up for the sleep loss. Shiro puts his mac and cheese down on Keith’s counter and goes over to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, catching Keith by the elbow and turning his attention back to Shiro. He doesn’t quite look all the way awake yet. Shiro wants to revel in how safe Keith feels around him, but the guilt from barging into his space unannounced is starting to weigh out. Keith deserves to know the truth.

Keith frowns at him instead, mouth twisting unhappily. “Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything, Shiro.”

Shiro leads him over to his couch and makes him sit down. He goes, but he’s still looking up at Shiro for an answer. Shiro is frantically trying to figure out how he’s going to explain this, especially to a half-awake Keith. Well, maybe he’ll start there.

“Can I make you some tea?” he says in lieu of any explanation. Keith’s frown deepens, looking like he’s not going to let Shiro brush him off. Shiro rushes to soothe the expression. “I promise I’ll explain, but you look like you need it. I’ve got my lunch too,” he gestures to the take out box on Keith’s kitchen counter and the other man’s glower softens as he sees it.

“Okay,” he relents. “You haven’t eaten? It’s late, I think.”

Shiro leaves him on the couch to steep his tea and borrow a fork from Keith. The kettle already has enough water, so Shiro switches it on and finds Keith’s tea tin to get the leaves ready. Shiro had given him the tin ages ago - he’s not sure how it survived all the years in the desert on its own while they were up in space, but Keith had rescued it from the shack and Shiro has made sure it’s full at every opportunity. He scoops the black tea leaves into the strainer and waits for the kettle.

Keith is quiet in the living room, pulling out his hair and finger combing it. Shiro takes a few bites of his lunch as Keith starts tying it back into a neat braid and they spend the next few minutes together in silence.

When the tea is ready, Shiro brings it and the rest of his lunch back to the living room. Keith holds the steaming cup between his hands but doesn’t take a sip before he asks again, “so, why are you sorry?”

Shiro swallows his next bite. “Because I barged in unannounced,” he says, putting down his fork and starting with the most obvious thing. “I was trying to get to my quarters to eat and do some work in private. But I got sent here instead.”

Keith takes a small sip, but doesn’t put the cup down yet. It’s a cute look, sitting cross legged on his couch, tea held in both hands. He’s still in his sleeping clothes, which, come to think of it, Shiro’s been looking for that shirt. Figures it ended up in Keith’s room.

“I don’t mind,” he says, because of course he doesn’t. Shiro shakes his head.

“No, it’s not that,” he says. “I know you don’t mind. I love seeing you too, it’s just- just this,” he wills the black bayard to reform into his hand, and then places it on the table. “I think it’s been sending me to you.”

Keith’s eyes are wide as he looks at Shiro through the steam, his mouth a soft oh.

“Every time I try to use it to teleport somewhere, I think Black is interfering. If you’re someplace similar to where I want to go, she redirects me to you.”

“Like the time in the shower,” Keith says softly, following Shiro’s train of thought.

Shiro nods. “And the training room. And all the other times these last few weeks.”

“Hm,” Keith says, and then takes a big sip of tea. His cheeks are a little pink. “Do you- uh, do you know why?”

Shiro takes a breath. “I do,” he says. “Or at least, I’m pretty sure. It’s- it’s because, um.”

Usually Shiro doesn’t have this much trouble with his words, but Keith has always been a special case. But Keith is also so brave and dedicated, Shiro can be those things to him as well.

“It’s because,” he says softly, looking at the way Keith’s hands grip his cup. “It’s because I love you.”

The room is quiet as Shiro chances a look up. Keith’s eyes are even wider, his mouth open. His tea looks forgotten in his lap, and Shiro reaches over to take it from him before it spills. He sets it gently on the table beside his take out box, and then looks back at Keith.

His lips work for a moment and then he says, “I- you, really?”

His hands reach for Shiro’s, curling gently around flesh and bare metal. “Shiro!”

It seems like all he can say, but as he looks, Shiro sees the dawning understanding in Keith’s eyes brighten into joy. It lights the spark of hope in Shiro’s chest into a flame.

“Keith,” he says, gripping his hands back. “I’m _in love_ with you.”

Keith’s smile bursts across his face. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Shiro’s chest feels full of light. It sparks a laugh out of him and he watches Keith’s gaze turn fond. He reaches one hand up to brush Shiro’s bangs from his eyes.

“Am I still dreaming?” Keith whispers.

Shiro leans in and kisses him.

Keith’s hand slides back into his hair, and he’s so gentle. His lips are plush, a little chapped as he presses softly into it. He works his lips against Shiro’s, letting him turn his head to the best angle and smiling into each kiss Shiro presses to his lower lip, his cupid’s bow, the corner of his mouth.

Shiro is moving to sit beside him on the couch before he realises it. Then Keith opens his mouth and Shiro forgets about anything else.

He tastes like a hint of tea, but mostly like he just woke up. Shiro can’t even care, it’s wonderful and intimate and sweet, so many things that Keith is, that he can be, that Shiro wants to experience in this new way. They lose all sense of time as they kiss, soft and wet and everything.

“Oh no,” Keith says, suddenly, and pulls back. Shiro blinks at him. He’s gone as red as a tomato.

“Oh no?” Shiro parrots.

“Kosmo,” Keith says, and buries his face in his hands. “He’s been doing the same thing.”

Shiro is confused - they’ve just been kissing. What happened before? “Same as what?”

“Same as Black! They’re probably in on it.”

It takes him a moment to redirect his thoughts to the black bayard, and teleporting to not quite the right spot. Keith means Kosmo has been taking him to Shiro as well?

Keith stands up in a huff. “He’s been doing this for years! I thought I trained him not to do that!”

The idea makes Shiro laugh. “When exactly have you trained the wolf to do something that he didn’t already want to do?”

That has Keith deflating a little. “Heh, I guess. He’s been trying to set us up for years,” he says, cheeks bright red. It flushes down his neck. “I told him I’d sort it out myself but I guess he got tired of waiting.”

Shiro hums. “Well, I guess there’s one way to find out,” he says. “If he’s with Black, we'll know for sure.”

Keith ducks back into his bedroom to change while Shiro tidies up the dishes. He scarfs down the last bit of cold mac and cheese in three bites while he waits, but Keith isn’t long. He’s tying up his jacket as he steps up beside Shiro with a smile. Shiro can’t help but steal another quick peck, which becomes two and then three before they both pull back, grinning.

Shiro holds the bayard in his right hand, Keith’s in his left. In a flash they’re in the Black Lion’s hangar, this time right where they expected to be.

There’s no one else in sight and they look around until there’s a bark from above. They both look up to see Kosmo standing on Black’s nose, tail wagging furiously. Black seems overly pleased with herself as well.

Keith is blushing again, but he’s smiling. “I knew it,” he says, sliding one arm around Shiro’s waist. Shiro pulls him in around the shoulders and kisses him again. Kosmo barks happily at the sight.

Shiro smiles against Keith’s lips, happier than he’s ever been. He’s right where he needs to be.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter at [thimblee!](https://twitter.com/thimblee)


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